The First Meme of Two Thousand Sixteen
by queensmooting
Summary: Ed doesn't pay mind to the secret admirer leaving him notes. Until the notes stop, that is. High school AU.


originally posted on ao3 on january 6, 2016.

* * *

Someone is leaving notes in Ed's locker, and Ed isn't quite sure what to think.

It's not that he isn't flattered. Al's always telling him he craves validation. Ed responds by telling Al he craves a knuckle sandwich, but Ed knows deep down there's some truth to it. _Way_ deep down.

The secret admirer uses a combination of flirty cut-outs from magazines (on the extreme side of trying too hard) and fuzzy print-outs of decade-old memes (on the sad side of not trying at all). There is no handwriting to trace, and Ed can only handle so much mystery before he needs to pass it off to more capable hands (namely Al's).

He knows it isn't Winry, who has been too busy fawning over Paninya all quarter to even bother messing with his head. He's fairly certain it isn't any of the goth kids who hang out down the hall from his locker, though he supposes the dark glares they level at him could be concealing some latent feelings (Al just stares when he mentions this theory, and Ed tries to forget it). He's just about positive it isn't Lan Fan, who looks at him like she wants to use him for target practice (and really, who forms a _knife-throwing club?_ ).

Ed knows who he _wants_ it to be, in that _way_ deep down place he won't acknowledge, making a home beside his craving for validation. When he thinks about it the skin at the back of his neck tingles like someone is touching his hair, and so he doesn't think about it.

He doesn't think about it as much as possible, until the notes abruptly stop following winter break. And Ed begins to obsess.

"So Al," Ed says, slamming his planner in front of his brother at their cafeteria table. "I've been thinking."

"Oh good," Al says, sighing and pushing aside his lunch in a resigned sort of way that Ed doesn't really appreciate.

"The notes," Ed says, pulling a fistful of papers out of his backpack and holding them under Al's nose.

"Started after Thanksgiving." Ed returns them to the middle pouch of his backpack, which had accidentally become solely devoted to the locker notes somewhere in the last month.

"They showed up every Tuesday." Ed opens his planner to December, jabbing a finger at the page until Al forcibly moves it so he can see what Ed is pointing at.

"Mm hmm," Al says, politely as he can around a hearty sip of Capri Sun.

(Ed keeps insisting Al needs to upgrade to Gatorade now that he's in high school. Al keeps insisting that if he's going to drink fake juice, he's going to drink the sort that comes in eighteen different fake fruit flavors.)

" _Until_ ," Ed says emphatically, then turns the page to January. "Yesterday. Yesterday was a Tuesday, and yet I didn't get anything in my locker."

"Oh!" Al says, sounding half as impressed as Ed would prefer.

"Do they not like me anymore?" Ed asks, turning to face forward, his lunch already forgotten. "Maybe they met someone tall over winter break."

"I thought you didn't care about them?" Al says lightly, nudging Ed's planner back toward him to make more room for his tray.

"I _don't_ ," Ed says, and he can see Al nodding a little too slowly in the corner of his eye.

"Anyway," Al says, "didn't they send you one that was just eleven variations of the Feels Guy? Maybe they didn't like you to begin with."

Before Ed can dignify that with a response he sees Winry and Lan Fan approaching the table, talking with their heads close. Ling is trailing behind Lan Fan, his head bent low to his phone where he is typing something at a furious pace.

Ling hasn't been seen much by anyone since the start of the new quarter. Ed knows this because Al mentioned it to him, as did Lan Fan. Ed certainly hasn't noticed it himself, but if he _had_ noticed he supposes he would be concerned. Ling's presence is normally one Ed can't shake, for better and worse, and he's not sure how he feels without it.

"Wait, so Armstrong caught you?" Winry is asking Lan Fan as they slide into seats across from Ed and Al.

"Yep," Lan Fan says darkly. "It wasn't pretty."

"What, did she flip out?"

"No, she just…glared."

"Oh, that doesn't sound as bad."

"Tell me that when she catches you climbing the basketball hoop."

Ed watches Ling sit next to Lan Fan, still looking out of it as he considers something on his phone. Ed wonders if something could be wrong at home, and tries remembering if Ling has hinted at anything recently.

"Are you going to eat?" Ed asks.

"In a minute," Ling says, not glancing up.

Ed isn't used to Ling's passivity, and doesn't think he likes it.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" Ed asks.

Ling nods and stands without complaint, still looking at his phone, brow furrowed tightly in concentration. Winry and Lan Fan pay them no mind, but he sees Al giving him a look that's a hint too suspicious, and Ed makes a mental note to murder him later.

He leads Ling to their next classroom, just outside the cafeteria and empty. After he closes the door Ed turns toward Ling, who is still preoccupied.

"So can I ask you something?" Ed says, getting right to it.

"Yeah, just a sec," Ling says, hopping on the nearest desk and typing on his phone. He hunches over so his bangs fall over his face and Ed wants to brush them aside, just to see his eyes. _To make sure he's alright_ , Ed tells himself, even as his gut lurches.

"Okay!" Ling says brightly, finally looking up where Ed is standing near him. "What's up?"

"Is, um…" Ed says slowly, suddenly unsure. "Is everything okay? I mean like, with you or your life or whatever?"

"Yeah, but you know how it is," Ling said, a touch of the forlorn in his voice. "First meme of the year and all that."

"First– _what?_ "

"Well, it's dogs wearing pants in different ways, and you know that can only last so long, so I've got to get in all the–"

"Wh–all this time you've been ignoring me for memes?"

Later Ed will think to be embarrassed by his wording, but for the moment he is more distracted by how hard Ling is biting his lip against laughter.

"Yeah, c'mere," Ling says, sounding strained. "Haven't you been watching my blog? Honestly I thought you'd be trying to out-meme me like usual."

"The holidays are family time, man," Ed says, but he jumps up on the desk beside Ling, a little disappointed to lose the height advantage.

"Check this out," Ling says. "They found a real live actual dog like this."

Ling holds the phone out for Ed, who takes it and gives an obligatory glance at the dog wearing an absurd pair of pants. The two of them steal each other's phones enough that Ed feels comfortable scrolling through a few of Ling's other pictures, until he comes to one that looks oddly familiar.

"Is that Pepe as the Discourse Chef?" Ed asks.

Ling scoots closer and props his chin on Ed's shoulder to look. "Oh. Yep, sure is."

"I found that in my locker a few weeks ago, along with some stupid pick-up line."

"'Are you from Dagobah? Because Yodalicious."

Ed feels Ling's jaw bouncing as he speaks, his small puffs of breath on his neck. Ed's heart is hammering, and he wonders if Ling can feel it, right through Ed's shoulder bone.

"It was you?" Ed asks, and the high pitch of his voice is another thing he will have to be embarrassed about later.

"Um, yeah," Ling says. He says it like it's obvious, and he draws away to look at Ed properly. "Who else do you know who would send you the winking cat from the 'I'm a Kitty Cat' flash?"

"Ling, were you even born when that came out?"

"Um." Ling frowns. "Huh. Good question."

He takes his phone back, presumably to look up the origins of cat-centric flash videos, and Ed groans in exasperation.

"Ling," he says.

Ed takes Ling's chin to angle it down toward him, sweeps Ling's hair away with his free hand, and stretches up to press a quick, perhaps too-hard kiss to Ling's forehead. It stuns Ling into stillness and silence, and Ed tacks it up as a win.

"You may own the first meme of the year," Ed tells him, drawing back a little but still holding onto Ling's face. "But whatever it is, I'm all over the second."

"You're on," Ling says, his tone competitive and his smile unguarded.


End file.
